Anxiety Chronicles – The Vet

I don’t really share personal stories on here anymore, just to share them. However I figure why not? People are nosey and now I can show you normal situations in which I act like a total psychopath aka my anxiety chronicles, so without further ado…

The Anxiety Chronicles – Madison goes to the vet.

Okay, so, my cat is around 15 years old and the love of my life. I’m not kidding, if you come to my home and don’t like the way my cat is coming at you, I’m gunna tell you to take a hike before I even begin to yell at her. She is an angel. Who slaps the shit out of people.

The Dwight to my Jim, because she’s unnecessarily mean but I know she loves me

Anyway, her teeth have been bothering her because she has brushed them zero times in her tiny life. So I got a peek at them when she wasn’t paying attention and noticed some redness. Anxiety attack number 1. Immediately texted my mom that we needed to say our goodbyes and also I almost nervous pooped on her floor. To which she told me to calm down and to please not get the floor dirty.

Mom calls the vet. Vet says she needs to come in. Vet can’t get her in for two days. Anxiety attacks number 2 and 3, respectively. My mom tells me everything is going to be okay and to calm down. She is not calm. I ask a minimum of 75 times if my mom is sure the vet cannot just come to our house. She says no, every time.

We endure two sleepless night. My cat is acting normal and wants us to stop staring her.

Phase two – Vet Day

I wake up a full hour earlier than I need to. I am sweaty and am certain I’m going to nervous poop around five times before we even leave the house. Finally, my mom’s alarm goes off. Anxiety attack number 4. It is go time. My cat does not travel well, she’s left the house like a total of four times and she hates it (she gets that from me). My mom is ready and is about to try to stuff her into the carrier. I say “stuff”, because you have to cram her into it because she has approximately zero chill. My mom told me she’s doing that, I tell my mom I’ll be in the bathroom crying and putting on deodorant.

I get one deodorant swipe and my mom says she’s in the carrier and we have to leave immediately. I pick up the carrier, anxiety attack number 5.

We get out the door, the cat starts low crying. I start crying before I even reach the car door. Anxiety attack number 6. My mom is driving as fast and safely as she possible can. Like if you were running late for a Christmas party but had a pot of soup in the passenger seat. I have been crying for four minutes now, which is four more minutes than I usually cry. We make it to the vet in a record six minutes.

We make it to the vet

My mom gets out first to check in and give the room an ocular pat down. I come in with the cat. They have a special cat waiting room, and nobody else is there, negative one anxiety attack. They call us in the room, I detect no movement in the cat carrier. Anxiety attacks 7, 8, and 9, concurrently, as I am certain we murdered the cat by just bringing her to the vet. I look to find the nearest bathroom. False alarm, the cat is still alive, she is just resisting movement, and also the 8 pounds of calming spray we sprayed in her carrier probably kicked in.

It’s exam time. She gets weighed, and the vet pokes her all around to make sure everything feels good. She says everything feels good. I have anxiety attack number 10 anyway, because everyones behavior is suspicious. However, she has a heart murmur (instant anxiety attack number 11) which is most likely caused by an overactive thyroid which is very common in cats her age. We get to the teeth exam, the vet looks at the teeth in question and just keeps talking to my cat and saying “oh these are bad baby these are really bad” she does not clarify what she means in .001 seconds, so I have anxiety attack and bubble guts number 12. She clarifies, not life threatening, just needs fixed.

She says she needs to take blood work to check her for the hyperthyroidism, and give her an antibiotic shot for the tooth infection in the mean time. Dr. Heather wraps my cat up in a towel, like a giant burrito with her small head poking out and goes on her way. She comes back suspiciously fast with no cat, anxiety attack number 13. Turns out she just wanted us to pay our $351 while my cat gets the blood work. Fine. She comes back cat in carrier and ready to bounce. I walk out the door at 47 miles per hour.

The aftermath

As said before, the cat is totally fine. Not in visible pain and not lethargic or anything. We stare at her for 20 minutes straight anyway, wondering how pissed off she is. She tells us, indirectly, to stop staring at her and to leave her alone. So we drink wine and eat Bob Evans at 11:27am.

The vet called and said her blood work wasn’t healthy enough to be put under anesthesia, anxiety attack number 14. He then clarifies it’s just because of the heart murmur which did turn out to be hyperthyroidism and is easily fixable. We have to pick up medicine that costs probably as much as a 1997 Toyota Corolla, and bring her back in three weeks to make sure it’s fixed and schedule the extraction.

So, thats where we are. I hope this is over as fast as possible and the cat can feel better. I’m 100% this chronicle will turn into a trilogy, so wish me luck and stay tuned.

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About Me

M a d i s o n S h e l b y

I'm a *whispers* millennial, trying to navigate life with social anxiety, while drinking wine, being sarcastic, and saying cuss words. I love cooking, horror films, and helping people. So, let's help each other through this crazy journey!

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